


Seduction

by rayenbow



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-27
Updated: 2012-10-27
Packaged: 2017-11-17 03:45:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/547282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayenbow/pseuds/rayenbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble in which Izzy is drunk and Magnus is easily seduced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seduction

This situation is one that he never thought he’d find himself in, not in a million years. Just goes to show how far a little bit of tequila can take you.   
  
Isabelle Lightwood stands in the doorway to his livingroom. This isn’t unusual. As of late, she’s been hanging around while Simon’s been visiting his sister, and it’s not like Alec comes over anymore. Spending the night, disappearing after breakfast, and coming back hours after the sun has set, he eventually got  tired of letting her in so often that he gave her a key. He doesn’t mind having her around, really. Especially when he drinks the right amount of liquor, and he’s in the right mindset, and he realizes that she can basically be a female Alec.  
  
The next best thing, in his opinion.  
  
So when he’s faced with her fresh out of the shower, her hair hanging in sheets around her face, wearing nothing but a pair of lacy black panties and one of his white dress shirts, which isn’t even buttoned up _Christ almighty_ , he does what any reasonable man would do: he takes it all in shamelessly; those mile-long legs, her flat, muscled stomach, and the curve of her breasts, which were mostly (irritatingly) covered by the shirt.  
  
With a little effort, he tunes in to what she’s saying.  
  
“I can’t get it buttoned. My fingers keep slipping.”  
  
Her words are slurred. She’d gotten in the shower drunk, and has come out the same way. By the way she walks closer, the sway of her steps and unsteadiness in her legs, it’s a wonder as to how she didn’t slip and fall in there. She stops in front of him where he sits on the couch, twirling a lock of hair around her finger.  
  
She’s doing this on purpose, he thinks. They’re both lonely, neither of them seriously committed, at least not enough to count, and they both have enough alcohol in their systems to bat reason away, anyway. She catches her lower lip between her teeth and tilts her head.  
  
“Help me?” She rests a knee on the couch between his, puts a hand on his shoulder, and leans forward.  
  
That’s all it takes.  
  
He reaches up, sliding his hands over her bare waist and pushing the shirt out of the way. He pulls her down, settling her on his lap, and presses kisses along her neck, collarbone, and chest.  
  
He’ll blame it on the tequila and her seduction in the morning. But he knows he would have done it anyway.


End file.
